Adventures of Maite and Kepa, Buber's Basque Story

The Adventures of Maite and Kepa: Part 169

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“What is it, then?” asked Kepa as Maite flipped the pages of the journal.

“It must be some special language.”

The Adventures of Maite and Kepa is a weekly serial. While it is a work of fiction, it has elements from both my own experiences and stories I’ve heard from various people. The characters, while in some cases inspired by real people, aren’t directly modeled on anyone in particular. I expect there will be inconsistencies and factual errors. I don’t know where it is going, and I’ll probably forget where it’s been. Why am I doing this? To give me an excuse and a deadline for some creative writing and because I thought people might enjoy it. Gozatu!

“Language? Those aren’t even letters.”

“I think it’s a special witches’ code.” Maite paused. “Garuna, have you seen anything like this before?”

“No,” rumbled the AI in her head. “I have never seen such scribblings.”

“They are not scribblings,” replied Maite, making Kepa guess what Garuna had said. “I think this is a code, used by the witches to transfer their knowledge to each other.”

“Witches?” asked Kepa. “Really?”

Maite looked up to him quizzically and shrugged. “After the zatia, you still doubt there were witches?”

Kepa blushed. “Well, ok. But not like de Lancre described them.”

Maite nodded. “I agree. They weren’t worshipping Satan or anything of the sort. I imagine they were mostly just herbalists, men and primarily women who knew about the benefits of herbs and other elements from nature to make various remedies and the like. Others thought it was magic, but mostly it was chemistry.”

“And some magic. The zatia, like you said.”

“I guess, but I’m not convinced that the zatia are supernatural, or just some natural phenomenon that we don’t yet understand.”

“‘Any science suffciently advanced…’” Kepa began quoting.

“Exactly,” smiled Maite.

“In any case, how does this journal help us? And why hasn’t Marina come back for it herself before now?”

“I’m not sure how it helps, but it doesn’t hurt. Maybe it will teach us more about who Marina really was. And as for why she never retrieved it, I guess she has been too busy?”

“Or she thought it burned with the baserri and never bothered to look.”

“That’s probably more likely.” Maite paused again. “Garuna, do you think you can decipher this code?”

“Possibly. But, it will take some time. You are not a very efficient power source. I cannot devote any significant energy to this problem.”

“Understood,” said Maite as she stood up. Turning to Kepa, she added “Garuna’s going to try to decipher the code, though I will have to mentally scan the pages for it to have access to it.”

“Scan the pages?” asked Kepa.

“Just flip through it, registering every page in my mind so that Garuna can take a snapshot, so to speak.”

“Ah,” replied Kepa. “Sounds tedious.”

Maite threw Kepa a mischevious smile. “Well, I can do it while you give me a back rub.”

“I guess I can do that,” he replied. “As long as I can put the pelota match on in the background.”

“Deal,” said Maite as she headed out of the ruins of the baserri.

Kepa looked at his branch, debating momentarily whether he should take his new favorite stick with him. But, after a brief internal struggle, he threw it aside and jogged to catch up with Maite.

If you get this post via email, the return-to address goes no where, so please write blas@buber.net if you want to get in touch with me.

Basque Fact of the Week, Euskadi

Basque Fact of the Week: The Surfing Mecca of Mundaka

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Right next to Bermeo lies Mundaka. While we didn’t stop in Mundaka, we drove through it several times as we ventured into the heart of Bizkaia, particularly Munitibar. Sitting right on the coast, Mundaka sees the waves of the Atlantic crashing into its beaches, and because of the special geography of the seafloor, these waves have become famous for surfing. However, Mundaka has a history lost to time and legend, as it is said that the mythical first Lord of Bizkaia was born there.

The Mundaka Wave. Photo by Mitxel Andreu, found on BasqueTours.
  • The oldest historical mention of Mundaka that we have is from January 30, 1051 in a document where Iñigo López, the Count of Vizcaya, granted the Bishop of Alava García some of his belongings, which included several estates in Mundaka. Because Mundaka is said to have the oldest temple in Bizkaia, it also has the first seat at the General Assembly of the province. Legend says that Jaun Zuria, the White Lord and first Lord of Bizkaia, was born in Mundaka, which might be another reason that Mundaka has the first seat.
  • Later, Mundaka found itself at odds with Bermeo regarding jurisdiction of some ports. Mundaka and Bermeo also jointly contested the island of Izaro, the resolution of which is celebrated by the Madalenas fiesta.
  • In the 17th century, because of the threat from first Dutch and then later French and English fleets (including that of Oliver Cromwell), the Señorío of Bizkaia began fortifying ports such as Mundaka. They also sent soldiers to help guard the ports.
  • The origin of the name Mundaka has been lost to time. Some suggest it is of Norse or Scottish origin (Jaun Zuria was the son of a Scottish princess), and there is the possibility of a Viking settlement in the area from very early times. The Norse origin would lead to Mundaka meaning something like “mouth of the cape” while the Scottish one might suggest a Latin origin meaning “clean water.” A more Basque origin suggests it might mean “on the slope of a hill.”
  • Mundaka borders the town of Bermeo and sits at the mouth of the Oka (Mundaka) river, with Laida on the other side.
  • The town, since its founding, was devoted to fishing, but in recent times that has changed. There are no fishermen in Mundaka. Rather, today, tourism is the primary driver of the economy, with the population swelling by five times in the summer. This is driven, in part, by surfing. Mundaka is known for the Mundaka Wave. The estuary has a sandbar for forming waves that are ideal for surfing. At one time, Mundaka was one of the sites for the World Championship Tour of Surfing. However, the sandbar was damaged in 2005, seriously degrading the nature of the waves and the attractiveness of Mundaka for surfing. With time, the sea has rebuilt the sandbar and the Mundaka Wave is recovering.

Primary sources: Arozamena Ayala, Ainhoa. MUNDAKA. Auñamendi Encyclopedia. Available at: https://aunamendi.eusko-ikaskuntza.eus/en/mundaka/ar-99922/; Mundaka, Wikipedia

Adventures of Maite and Kepa, Buber's Basque Story

The Adventures of Maite and Kepa: Part 168

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“So…” mused Maite as she absentmindedly wandered the ruins of the baserri. “If this baserri was like most, there was the foyer and off to the side a kitchen. The barn would have been opposite the main entrance. And above would have been the rooms.” Looking up, she saw nothing but blue sky. She imagined how the rooms might have collapsed as the building burned. While the outside walls were stone, the interior was mostly wood and would have burned quickly, she imagined. 

The Adventures of Maite and Kepa is a weekly serial. While it is a work of fiction, it has elements from both my own experiences and stories I’ve heard from various people. The characters, while in some cases inspired by real people, aren’t directly modeled on anyone in particular. I expect there will be inconsistencies and factual errors. I don’t know where it is going, and I’ll probably forget where it’s been. Why am I doing this? To give me an excuse and a deadline for some creative writing and because I thought people might enjoy it. Gozatu!

She walked over to where she guessed the barn was, gingerly stepping over piles of stone and scorched red roofing tiles. “The children’s rooms would have more likely been over the barn, to better warm them with the animal heat.” 

Kepa wasn’t sure she was talking to him or to herself. Or maybe even Garuna. But, he continued to follow her with his stick, ready to move rubble at a moment’s notice.

Maite pointed. “There. That larger pile of stuff. Let’s look under there.”

Kepa nodded as he put the end of his branch under one of the stones. He grunted as he pushed it down, slowly moving the rock to the side. He repeated this process a few times before stopping to take a break.

“I’m not used to this kind of work,” he said.

Maite seemed not to hear him as she knelt down at the pile and rummaged through some of the looser dirt and rocks. 

“Aha!” she exclaimed as she pulled something out of the pile.

“What is it?” asked Kepa, wiping the sweat from his brow.

“A book,” replied Maite. “Or, more precisely, a journal of some kind.”

“A journal?” asked Kepa. “Back then, weren’t the priests the only ones who knew how to read or write?”

“Bai,” answered Maite. “I think that’s right.”

She opened the journal as Kepa looked over her shoulder. The pages were filled with strange symbols that were indecipherable to him.

“Unless you had a very special education,” continued Maite with a smile.

If you get this post via email, the return-to address goes no where, so please write blas@buber.net if you want to get in touch with me.

Basque Fact of the Week, Euskadi

Basque Fact of the Week: Elantxobe, the Town Built into a Cliff

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Our time in Bizkaia had come to an end and we began our drive to Donostia. However, it is impossible to pass up the opportunity to drive along the coast and visit the small towns that dot the Atlantic. After leaving Bermeo, our first stop was Elantxobe. I’ve been there a few times now, simply fascinated by this marvelous little town that is literally built into the side of a cliff. I just couldn’t resist another visit to show off this curious and unique site. We parked at the top and walked down to the port, where we grabbed a coffee and a pintxo. The walk down was nice and pleasant, weaving through tight sidewalks and narrow stairs. The hike back up, though, was another story…

A view down at the port of Elantxobe from the upper part of the village. Photo by Blas Uberuaga.
  • Back in 1524, the neighborhood of Elantxobe began to be settled by sailors and fishermen from nearby Ibarrangelua. In fact, the name Elantxobe means the “Elantxo” district, which was a collection of farm houses in Ibarrangelua. In 1783, the port was built to help shelter the fishing boats.
  • In the 1600s, Elantxobe served as part of the defense against hostile Dutch and French forces. In 1703, two watchtowers were built on Cape Ogoño to help defend against Oliver Cromwell and English forces. The defenders destroyed the British ships, as well as a group of witches that supposedly lived in the caves of Ogoño.
  • Elantxobe remained part of Ibarrangelua until 1858, at which point it became an independent municipality and gained a vote in the General Assembly of Gernika. It was only in 1799 that its own church, dedicated to San Nicolás de Bari, began to be built by the guild of fishermen. The church was blessed in 1803.
  • Elantxobe is a small town, with less than 500 people. The population has dropped significantly in the last 100 years, from a peak of about 1900 in the early 1900s, as people left for opportunities in the bigger cities. Nearly all of the inhabitants speak Euskara, specifically a dialect that linguist Louis Lucien Bonaparte classified as that of Bermeo.
  • The most distinguishing aspect of Elantxobe is the fact that it is built almost literally into the cliffside. Elantxobe sits in the cliffs of Cape Ogoño, which protects it from the winds of the coast. From the port, it sprawls up the cliff, creating one of the most unique towns along all the Basque coast. The streets are so steep and tight that buses cannot turn around – there is a spinning platform where they park and are turned to leave. The writer and historian Francisco de Arechavala described the houses in Elantxobe in his book Aires del Norte thusly: “Where the roof of the first [house] ends, the second foundation dares to be raised. And so scattered without order or concert, they resembled a herd that was going to the summit.”
  • The primary feast day of Elantxobe is June 29 – Saint Peter’s day. However, the town also participates in the fiestas de Madalenas with Bermeo and Mundaka on July 22, welcoming the largest contingent of outsiders during the year.

Primary sources: Castaño García, Manu. ELANTXOBE. Auñamendi Encyclopedia. Available at: https://aunamendi.eusko-ikaskuntza.eus/en/elantxobe/ar-47073/; Elantxobe, Wikipedia

Basque Fact of the Week, People

Basque Fact of the Week: My Uncle Tio Joe

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We spent the next day, the day after seeing Bilbo, with family. In the morning, we met my dad’s sister Begoña and her family in Gernika. The rest of the family slowly found us throughout the morning and early afternoon as we wandered the city, stopping by the Tree of Gernika and a statue of Jose Mari Iparragirre. We all gathered outside of Gernika for lunch, a monumental event that started at about 2 pm and ended around 7. Almost all of the family was there – my dad’s two sisters Begoña and Rosario, his brother José Luis, and a multitude of cousins and now grandkids too. But, my dad’s uncle, Tio Joe, couldn’t join us as he is just too weak. So, after lunch, we headed to Rosario’s house, where Tio Joe lives, to have even more food and to visit with Tio Joe. Tio Joe turns 99 this December and though his body has gotten weaker, his mind is still sharp.

My wife Lisa, my daughter, myself, and my uncle Javier with Tio Joe.
  • Tio Joe was born on December 26, 1924, in Goikoetxebarri – the farmhouse my dad grew up in – in Munitibar. His full name is Juan José Uberuaga Urionaguena, but because he had a brother also named Juan, he goes by José, or Joe in the United States.
  • Tio Joe spent his whole life working – he never attended high school. He would work on the family baserri cutting grass, milking cows, and the like. When he was 12, he spent two years working in Gipuzkoa for 100 pesetas a year.
  • In 1952, when he was 28 years old, he came to the United States. He had a few uncles already in the US, one of which was the owner of the Uberuaga boarding house in Boise. Particularly during Christmas break, when he got 10 days, he would return to that boarding house. He remembers playing cards and socializing with other Basques, and the great food that his aunt Hermengilda would make. The only big rule that they had at the boarding house was that the boarders couldn’t take girls upstairs.
  • Tio Joe first worked for the Archibal sheep outfit. After a few years, he moved on to the Richardson feedlot in Caldwell, Idaho, owned by Simplot. Two years later, he began working for Boise Cascade as a logger, which he did with a number of other Basques. After a few other short-term jobs, Tio Joe ended up at the plywood mill in Emmett, Idaho, where he worked until an accident forced him into disability.
  • Tio Joe visited us often when I was a kid. My dad always called him Tio, so I just assumed that was his name, so I would call him Uncle Tio. He drove a flashy and always polished bright red car with white trim. His biceps were huge and he would always tease us that he got those biceps by eating eggs whole and that’s what we saw when he flexed his arm – the eggs. In 1984, Tio Joe moved back to the Basque Country, where he has been ever since.
  • Tio Joe was the catalyst that brought his brothers to the United States to also herd sheep. His brother Juan returned after only a few years but his brother Santiago stayed the rest of his life, making his home in Boise. Tio Joe and his brothers were also the reason that my dad came, again enticed by making a better life than seemed possible in the Basque Country.

Primary source: An Interview with Juan Jose Uberuaga, Boise Basque Museum

Adventures of Maite and Kepa, Buber's Basque Story

The Adventures of Maite and Kepa: Part 167

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The woods were dense with brush and limbs that protruded from the trees in every direction – it was clear no one had wandered back here in many years. Branches reached out and grabbed at their clothes and more than a few times scratched at their skin. Kepa was glad he had worn a hat today – more than a few times he smacked his head against a branch that jotted out at an odd angle. 

The Adventures of Maite and Kepa is a weekly serial. While it is a work of fiction, it has elements from both my own experiences and stories I’ve heard from various people. The characters, while in some cases inspired by real people, aren’t directly modeled on anyone in particular. I expect there will be inconsistencies and factual errors. I don’t know where it is going, and I’ll probably forget where it’s been. Why am I doing this? To give me an excuse and a deadline for some creative writing and because I thought people might enjoy it. Gozatu!

However, despite the constant battle against the wild flora, the hike was overall pleasant. The temperature was cool and it had been a long time since Kepa had just had a chance to be in the woods, to experience nature in its rawest form with no trail or other sign of human presence. Even back home, when he would go hiking with his dad, they usually followed well-worn paths that had been carved into the ground by the passing of thousands of feet over so many years. Here, the forest was still about as wild as it could be.

Some forty minutes passed as they trudged forward in the direction Kepa had pointed before they reached a small clearing in the forest. At first, it looked empty, but then Maite noticed an overgrowth of vines and plants near one side. Closer inspection revealed the crumbled remains of a wall that had since been taken over by the forest. 

“Looks like the remains of a baserri,” said Maite as she tried to pull some of the stubborn plants off the wall with little success.

Kepa nodded. “It must have been abandoned hundreds of years ago.”

He stepped over what he imagined might have been the front door and into the foyer. The floor was covered with plants such that he couldn’t see the foundation. But, in one corner, he saw some old beams. Pulling some of the vines away, he saw the burnt remains of what he guessed must have been joists from the room.

“Looks like it wasn’t just abandoned, but burnt down,” he said as he drew Maite’s attention to the blacked wood.

“Do you think it was an accident, or was it burnt on purpose?”

“Didn’t Marina say that the villagers burned her house down?”

“That’s right,” replied Maite, nodding. “This must be the baserri she grew up in.”

Kepa looked around. There wasn’t much to see and he couldn’t imagine that anything from Marina’s time besides some burnt wood and old stones had survived. What could they possibly learn by being here?

Kepa heard Maite grunting and turned to see her trying to move some of the stones that had piled up in the center of the gutted building. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“We came all this way,” she replied. “Might as well see what we can find.”

Kepa sighed. He knew better than to challenge Maite when she was determined. He looked around and found an old branch that had fallen off a dead tree. He picked it up and used it as a lever to move Maite’s rock. Underneath, there were just more rocks.

Maite shrugged. “Let’s keep looking,” she said. “There has to be something useful around here.”

Kepa hefted his new tool like it was a rifle on his shoulder and dutifully followed Maite around as she explored the remains of the baserri.

If you get this post via email, the return-to address goes no where, so please write blas@buber.net if you want to get in touch with me.

Basque Fact of the Week, Euskadi

Basque Fact of the Week: The Casco Viejo of Bilbo

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The next day, after visiting Munitibar, we spent the day in Bilbo. When I was living in Donostia in 1991-92, Bilbo wasn’t the biggest attraction. It had a reputation for being big and dirty. But, the city has really transformed itself, in part due to the Guggenheim effect. We met up with Pedro Oiarzabal, the heart of the Fighting Basque project, and my old friend from my Seattle days Aitor Pina in the Casco Viejo or Zazpi Kaleak neighborhood. We wandered the Plaza Nueva, getting a few drinks and pintxos and then strolled past the unending streets of shops. Pedro told me how the pintxo scene is changing. Before, people would get one pintxo at a bar and then wander to the next. But tourism is shifting that, such that people get a whole meal of pintxos at one place – enticed by 2-for-1 type deals – and end up just staying at one bar. I’ll be a grumpy old man and say I like the old way better.

Sitting down to lunch in the Casco Viejo with Pedro Oiarzabal (closest on the right) and Aitor Pina (next to Pedro).
  • When Bilbo was founded in 1300, there were two neighborhoods that straddled the Nervión River. On the left bank was Bilbao la Vieja and on the right what became the Casco Viejo. While La Vieja was a mining center with forges and the like, the Casco Viejo was the port, focused on water traffic.
  • Originally, the Casco Viejo was surrounded by a wall that enclosed three parallel streets. However, with growth, more room was needed. The wall was torn down and four more streets were added, bringing the total to seven and giving the neighborhood its other name – Zazpi Kaleak or Seven Streets: Somera (Goienkale, or the street above), Artekale (the middle street), Tendería (Dendarikale, the street of shops) – these are the three original streets – Belostikale, Carnicería Vieja, Barrenkale, and Barrenkale Barren. New walls were built around this expanded core, though that was eventually replaced by another street, the Ronda.
  • In 1979, the neighborhood was made pedestrian-only and it has become a commercial center of the city, containing some 240,000 square meters (2.5 million square feet) of restaurants, bars, and stores.
  • In 1983, the whole neighborhood and beyond was devastated by a massive flood. Something like 2 feet of rain fell in 24 hours, this after a month of steady rains that saturated the earth. Water levels, marked on some of the buildings to remember the horrific event, reached higher than the first floor of the buildings, putting the ground level shops and bars completely under water. 34 people died. Some 101 cities around the Basque Country were damaged by the rains and floods. The Casco Viejo was destroyed, but with time it was rebuilt and has become the commercial and social center of Bilbo that it is today.
  • At the time of Bilbo’s founding, the Casco Viejo already had the fortress of San Antón which would become the Church of San Antón and temple of Santiago, which is, today, the Cathedral.
  • One of the Basque Country’s most celebrated composers, Juan Crisótomo de Arriaga, was born on the oldest street of the Casco Viejo – Goienkale. And not far away is the oldest house in Bilbo. While the exact date of its construction has been lost, it was at least in the 14th century. It is still inhabited. And, on Calle Ronda, the famous intellectual Miguel de Unamuno was born on September 29, 1864. And the first Lehendakari of Euskadi – José Antonio Aguirre y Lecube – was also born in the Casco Viejo, in 1904.
  • The Plaza Nueva, where I met Pedro, was also known as the Venice of Euskadi. In 1871, when King Amadeo I visited the city, the city blocked off the plaza and the entrances to the buildings and flooded the plaza, even bringing in gondolas and asking the people of Bilbo to dress like gondoliers, to mimic Venice. All this because Amadeo was of Italian origin.

Primary sources: Casco Viejo y Ensanche, Bilbao Turismo; Historia del Casco Viejo, Casco Viejo; Bilbao por sus calles y plazas: Curiosidades de su emblemático casco viejo, National Geographic; El día que Bilbao fue sepultada por el lodo, La Vanguardia

Fighting Basques

Three Years of Fighting Basques

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For the last three years, I’ve been collaborating with Pedro Oiarzabal, Guillermo Tabernilla, and the Fighting Basques: Basque Memory of the Second World War project, translating their articles from Spanish to English. The Fighting Basques project recognizes the sacrifices and contributions that Basque Americans made during World War II. These were often the children of immigrants that were not necessarily fully accepted into local society, who came to the United States with little in their pocket but the hopes and dreams that a better life existed than the one that awaited them in the Basque Country. Their children embraced their parents’ new home, served their adopted country, and often became pillars of their communities. Over these three years, they have published some 32 articles, which, with the help of Google Translate, I’ve translated to English and shared on this site. This archive is a place where you can find all of the translated articles.

Adventures of Maite and Kepa, Buber's Basque Story

The Adventures of Maite and Kepa: Part 166

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“What do you think we’ll find here?” asked Kepa as he pulled their car into a little carpark. When Maite had suggested they go to Marina’s ancesctral home in Lapurdi, he was into the idea as he was always ready to see something new, but he wasn’t sure what good it would do or how it would help them.

The Adventures of Maite and Kepa is a weekly serial. While it is a work of fiction, it has elements from both my own experiences and stories I’ve heard from various people. The characters, while in some cases inspired by real people, aren’t directly modeled on anyone in particular. I expect there will be inconsistencies and factual errors. I don’t know where it is going, and I’ll probably forget where it’s been. Why am I doing this? To give me an excuse and a deadline for some creative writing and because I thought people might enjoy it. Gozatu!

“Ez dakit,” replied Maite. “I’m not sure. But it’s better than just sitting on our asses and waiting for the next bubble to appear.”

Kepa nodded. He knew how Maite hated inaction, hated just sitting around while things moved around her. She needed to feel some level of control or things would just drive her crazy. 

Sara was a bit different from most Basque towns he had been to. It didn’t seem to have a plaza like he was used to, with the traditional church, fronton, and bar. There was a fronton – an open air structure that was in contrast to the enclosed ones he was used to playing in – but it was just laid out differently. Maite walked the streets with determination, but Kepa wasn’t sure what she was really looking for.

They eventually came upon a cemetary full of funeral steeles. Maite began examining the headstones though Kepa was still confused as to what she thought she might find. 

“What are you looking for? I can help.”

Maite shrugged. “Any sign of Marina, I guess.”

“Given how she died, I doubt she was given a proper burial. And we don’t even know her surnames, to find her relatives.”

“True…” began Marina as she held up her hand, which began to glow with a bright white-blue light. She closed her eyes and swept her hand in front of her, letting it swing back and forth like some kind of divining rod. Eventually her arm came to rest, pointing at one of the steeles in the back. 

Kepa walked over to the steele Maite was pointing to. It was old, the stone edges crumbling and some of the engraved letters so worn that they were barely visible. But the names were clear. “Vicente and Clara,” read Kepa.

“Marina’s parents,” remarked Maite. 

“I guess that means she didn’t make up that part of her story,” said Kepa, “but I’m not sure how it helps us.”

“Let’s keep looking. There has to be something in this town that will.”

Kepa shrugged. “Let me try.” He held up his hand in front of him, pointing just like Maite had done. He let the power of the zatia flow through his body. His arm went limp just as some invisible force took control, holding it up. It floated in front of him, sweeping around. He could feel it bouncing back and forth as it swept an imaginary arc in front of him, each time the arc getting a little smaller and tighter. Suddenly, his arm flew around, pulling and spinning him by one hundred and eighty degrees as it pointed rigidly into the woods behind the town.

“I guess we know where we are going next,” he said as his arm fell limp next to his body.

If you get this post via email, the return-to address goes no where, so please write blas@buber.net if you want to get in touch with me.

Basque Fact of the Week, History

Basque Fact of the Week: The Bombing of Munitibar

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I’ve written about how towns in the Basque Country besides Gernika were bombed during the Spanish Civil War. After lunch at the txoko, we went to the plaza in Munitibar to meet my dad’s sister Begoña, her husband Javier, and my dad’s sister-in-law Rosario. While we were there, Beñat Zabalbeaskoa Zabala, one of the town councilors of Muntibiar-Arbatzegi Gerrikaitz who I’ve met a few times before, grabbed me and took me to the udaletxea, the town hall. There, he gave me a copy of a book detailing the 1937 bombing of Munitibar by the Germans and Italians in support of Franco’s coup. I can’t do the book justice here – it is filled with first-hand testimonials of those that experienced that horrific day. I only wish I knew Basque better to more fully understand and appreciate what they went through.

Cover to the book, produced by the Munitibar town council, that chronicles the first-hand experiences of those that were there during the 1937 bombing of the town.
  • The book, entitled Munitibar 1937/04/26: Aire-eraso baten kronika (Chronicle of an Air Raid), collects testimonials from some 31 witnesses who were there on the day of the bombing on April 26, 1937, including my dad’s uncle, José Uberuaga Urionaguena. The book is broken up into several sections that detail the situation in Munitibar the days before the raid, the actual day of the raid, and the aftermath. It is illustrated with period photos, recreations, and maps that highlight where the bombs, some 25 at least, fell.
  • Two days before the attack, the line holding the fascists at bay broke near Elgeta. This led to soldiers and civilians fleeing their advance. In particular, the Itxasalde battalion passed through Munitibar where soldiers were able to warn their families about what they feared would be an impending bombing. Indeed, bombs fell the day before the main attack of the town, in the surrounding forests, leaving craters that some witnesses called the size of a house. As soldiers fled from the front, reconnaissance planes tracked their movements and fed them to the advancing fascists.
  • The towns of Arbatzegi and Gerrikaitz, today collectively known as Munitibar, were bombed on April 26. The Kamptgrupe K/88 squadron, comprised of Junkers Ju-52 bombers supported by Heinkel He-51 fighters and under the command of one Karl von Knauer, left Burgos in the morning, flying over Vitoria-Gasteiz and across the peak of Oiz as they made their way to Munitibar. The attack occurred in the morning, before noon as recalled by multiple testimonies, with bombs followed by machine guns strafing the ground. The squadron made several passes over the town during the day.
  • Testimonies describe how people were in their fields plowing for beets or eating arroz con leche at lunch when the bombs fell. Others escaped to the woods, leaving older relatives who couldn’t easily flee behind in the baserri. The first bombs hit the Mataun baserri, right in front of the door, immediately killing 84 year old Justa Mendibe Arteach and wounding her son and granddaughter.
  • Many of those present at the attack were families fleeing from other towns that had been attacked before. These families didn’t always have obvious places for shelter. Some hid under the bridge, which was an unfortunate choice as the bridge itself was bombed. Depending on the source, between 11 and 36 people were killed and many others seriously wounded during the day. Many houses and town buildings were damaged or destroyed. Craters littered the two towns and surrounding hillsides.
  • The attacks on Munitibar ended some time around 3pm as the planes made their way to a new target: Gernika. Two days later, on April 28, the fascists occupied Munitibar.